


attagirl

by sophila



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Unsafe Sex, What Have I Done, amy is so desperate for love it hurts, v explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 02:26:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21008183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophila/pseuds/sophila
Summary: Like any self-respecting delinquent, Amy likes to push boundaries and make Frank's life even more difficult.





	attagirl

**Author's Note:**

> (I have Amy at around 17 in mind when I wrote this, which is the legal age of consent in some states but this is still p messed up. I warned for underage _just in case_, just so we’re clear. Also I left Amy’s past experiences very vague, so imagine what you will. sorry i'm late to the rare-pair party. :)

“_Heeyy_.” Is the first thing Frank hears slurred at him as he shuts the door behind himself.

Madani’s got the good shit, apparently, and Amy had helped herself to the liquor cabinet like any self-respecting teenaged vagrant would. Walking into the living room he finds her robed and sprawled out on the couch, hair in an array around her face, mismatched heels dangling off the wrong feet, and a wine glass full of what appears to be some sort of dark liquor. Of which she is notably holding by the stem like she’s never actually seen anyone use one before.

“Classy, kid. Real classy. I leave you alone for a few goddamn hours,” Frank grumbles but he makes no move to stop her.

“You were gone _six_ hours.” Amy deadpanned.

Well _shit._ Had it really been that long? He’d certainly been a busy man today. He sits heavily in the chair across from his usual preferred spot on the couch. She was in his place, naturally.

“And I got _so_ bored, this place is gonna turn me into a serial killer. I swear, I think she even alphabetizes her fucking cabinets.”

“What’s this, whiskey?” He grunts and points to the bottle on the coffee table among the chaos of clutter she’d managed to amass there. “You really drinking this stuff? You’re way too young to be drinking this stuff.” He gives her an amused smile before moving to fix himself a glass. 

“I’m almost twenty y’know.” Amy huffs, indignant, pulling the v-neck of the robe down dangerously low.

“_Bullshit_. Like hell you are.” Frank scoffs.

“Well, I mean, I could be,” She flipped her messy air back and if he didn’t know better he’d say she was even attempting bedroom eyes. “if you wanted me to be.” Amy finished in a husky voice that didn’t belong to her.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Frank demanded, annoyed at her clumsy attempts to drunkenly play him for whatever angle she wanted from him. 

“Mmm, whatever you want it to.” She tried to lick her lips and smile, but it was so overtly done it was almost comical. As if the more mature she tried to act the more of her immaturity she betrayed.

In a swift move Frank stood and snatched the glass away from her, causing her to jump. He then leaned over her, keeping his tone low and menacing. “You think you can just play dress-up and suddenly you know how the world works?”

“I’m self-sufficient.” Amy challenged, trying to make herself look tougher by gamely meeting his gaze.

“You almost got killed, kid. Would’ve, if it wasn’t for me, so don’t you try to play me for _shit_, you got that?” He was full on yelling now, and Amy looked about ready to yell back or cry but he wasn’t letting her get another word in “Look, whatever _this_ is, better stop.”

“I-” She started, but Frank didn’t want to hear it.

“No- you’re tryin’ to manipulate me and I ain’t having it. Now go get your ass in bed. Go.” He ordered, and jabs a hand roughly in the direction of the bedroom door.

Amy fled the living room without another word. “And I better not catch you drinking again.” Frank added for good measure as the door slammed shut. 

That night, as he fights for sleep on the unreasonably comfortable couch he hears her crying well into the night.

_____________________

Days later and Frank had almost completely forgotten about the incident, a fluke in an otherwise innocent relationship. But innocent unfortunately didn’t translate to simple or easy, nothing was ever simple or easy in his life these days. He knew he wasn’t the easiest person to live with, or be subject to as an authority figure. But, for her part, the kid was almost as traumatized and damaged as he was. She’d been through hell at some point in her life, that much was apparent when he’d tried to keep her from running off by locking her in.

His cheek still stung from her earlier outburst. Never mind the bullet hole in his ass and his fucked up wrist. Seeing all her trauma bubbling just beneath the surface rear right up in his face somehow hurt deeper. But there was something about the way she didn’t flinch when she attacked him, when she fearlessly screamed in his face. The way she used all her furious power against him, even though she was desperately outmatched- Frank knew those instincts were going to keep her alive and it almost made him proud. 

Now the kid was taking a shower, and he busied himself with the dishes to give her some privacy but she was taking too goddamn long. Women always took longer showers than he thought reasonable but this was really pushing it.

He had just reached for another mug when he heard it, so quiet it was almost imperceptible. Some kind of pained noise coming from the bathroom.

“Goddamnit.” He threw sponge back into the soapy water. It would be just his fucking luck and her kind of impulsive bullshit that she cuts herself on some sort of ludicrously expensive and complicated shaving tool and was now bleeding out all over the bathroom.

There was no other reasonable explanation he could possibly think of for her taking so long. He charged towards the bathroom door, prepared to bang on it and demand to know what happened, but the words died on his tongue. 

The sound of a breathy gasp keening into a moan was almost impossible for him to process. It short-circuited every part of his brain. She _wasn’t _in pain- quite to the contrary.

Okay, so she was a teenager, she was.. exploring herself. It was normal. It was fine, Frank absolved as he stood there, dumbstruck. Another gasp knocked him back into reality and he stalked away from the door, red-faced. He wasn’t the type of man to be embarrassed often, but he felt his entire body flush with a strange heat, like he’d been wandering in the desert for days. That’s what he gets for not minding his own, _again_, he supposed. He should’ve just left her alone.

He stiffly walked back to the kitchen and resumed washing the dishes, like nothing happened, scrubbing with renewed purposeful fury against Madani’s spotless dishes. Steadfastly ignoring how the stinging ache of his cheek was now joined by a new sensation of perplexing fullness between his legs.

_____________________

Setting up camp in the trailer wasn’t difficult. But personal space became essentially nonexistent. Frank was always mindful whenever Amy showered now, always finding something to do that created some sort of white noise. Fortunately he was gone most of the daytime, and she usually showered while he was out. 

A few nights of laying low and Amy had finally pulled Frank into a game of Rummy, at which he got his ass kicked- twice. And when Amy asked him “Why not make it a 3 for 3?”, he’d responded “I’m gonna figure out how you’re cheating this time, I swear. Bet on that.” And then promptly lost two more times. At some point they’d both fallen asleep on the well-worn sofa, Amy curled up on her side and Frank dozing with his head and elbow on the armrest. He awoke to the feeling of Amy adjusting herself in her sleep, and found that she’d covered them both with the thin crocheted blanket.

He debated getting up and into the ancient bed, where he’d been bunking for the last few days on the other end of the trailer. He knew he should; giving Amy her own space and all, but that would involve leaving the cozy warm nest of blanket and pillows Amy had surrounded them with. He could still feel her moving next to him, the rustling movement against his back now strangely rhythmic. She must be dreaming.

Her breathing was heavy, a nightmare then, he assumed. The heavy pull of exhausted sleep nearly overtook him again when he heard a small whimper, fully rousing him. He’d heard _that _kind of sound from her once before.

“What are you-” Frank jumped up in an instant, taking the blanket with him and exposing her.

Amy had apparently stripped herself of her pants while he was sleeping, and now had a hand buried in her panties and a furious flush of concentration across her face, visible even in the hazy lamplight.

“Oh my _god_! Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” She jerked her hand away from herself, and made a desperate grab for the blanket.

“What the fuck are you thinkin’?” He roared at her, voice hoarse and cracked from sleep. “Huh?! What’re you doing?”

Instead of answering, Amy just stares at him, beet-red, mouth moving- searching for words that won’t come, that _cannot_ come. Instead, in a surprisingly agile move, she just throws the blanket at him and makes a beeline for the bathroom. Frank, in all of his blind confusion and indignation tears after her.

She barely manages to lock the door before he’s roughly trying to slide it open, threatening the integrity of the entire door frame.

“Please don’t throw me back out there, I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_. I’ve never had anyone ever take care of me like this before. Nobody ever cared about me. I- it makes me feel a lot of different things- it’s confusing. I don’t know why I did that.” Amy sobs against his onslaught on the door.

“What the _fuck _was that?” Frank bellows against the door, beating on it with his fist.

“I won’t do it again I promise.” He could hear her sniffling as she pleaded. “ I’m sorry. I’ll be good- I’ll do whatever you want. I don’t know why I did it-I really don’t. I just feel so bad all the time and I wanted- god, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Frank fisted a hand into his sleep mussed hair and gusted a sigh as he slowly came back to his senses. It wasn’t all her fault, he resolved. He still remembered those raging hormones, they’d made a fool out of him plenty of times.

“That’s way outta line. You gotta know that.”

“I know.” Amy’s voice was uncharacteristically mousey and defeated.

“If you can’t handle yourself in here, I’ll take you to Curtis’ and he can decide what to do.” He knew he should be doing that right now but he’s exhausted. “_Shit_.” He sighs lowly before stepping away from the door and retreating towards the sparse bedroom.

The couch was honestly more comfortable than the bed, but Amy clearly couldn’t handle him in her space. He understands it now, how he’s filled a gaping void in her life. Filling a role as a protector, a teacher. This was just a teacher-crush, Frank can understand that. _Yeah,_ he remembered Ms. Castelli, a box of tissues and his right hand all too well from junior year.

He flops onto the bed, wincing when he has to readjust himself because his dick was somehow now at an uncomfortable angle, hardening at his mere train of thought. It throbbed fruitlessly against his utilitarian handling, senselessly begging for more contact.

Frank mutters a curse and rolls over, crushing himself into the unforgiving mattress as he wills it into oblivion. But the harder he tried not to think of it, the worse it got. Amy’s whimpers and gasps from the shower still played on repeat in his head. The way her hand was glistening with slick when she tore it away from herself burned behind his eyes when he closed them. It was a new and different kind of haunting, fit to join the ghosts already in his head.

He should call Curtis. He should Call Curtis right now, tell him to take the kid. But he doesn’t. He falls asleep instead. He goes out before she’s awake the next day and doesn’t come back until that night and they don’t speak of it.

They settle back into their respective roles, and he finally begins to trust her to handle herself.

_____________________

Until one night it finally all goes to hell.

The night the heater gets jammed on full blast- it was either on or off. Off obviously isn’t an option, and fixing it tonight isn’t either, so Frank secludes himself into the bedroom for the night and strips down to his underwear, giving Amy the privacy to do the same. 

A strange tapping sound startles him awake and upon poking his head out from between the beaded divider he quickly locates the source. The back window is ajar and the cool night breeze is causing the blinds to rattle noisily.

“Fuckin’ kid.” Frank grumbles darkly as stomps over to close it. “You trying to get killed? I know it’s hotter ‘n hell in here but it’s no excuse to be stupid like that.” He gripes at the Amy shaped blob under the mass of blankets.

“Hey,” He tries when he gets no response. “_Hey_.”

Frank pulls the blanket back to reveal nothing but a mass of pillows strategically stacked against the sofa with the intention of looking like a body. “The hell?”

He then notices Amy’s backpack is missing and he’d just been had by the oldest trick in the book.

Frank had been pacing less than 5 minutes while trying desperately to think of a next course of action before a light knocking at the door prompts him to reach for the nearest firearm- the shotgun.

“Frank, s’me.” Amy croaked pitifully from the other side of the trailer door. She must’ve seen the window closed and the lights on and known she was busted.

Frank set the gun down and opens the door only enough to wrench her inside before slamming it closed behind them.

“What the _fuck_ were you doing?!” His hand is fisted tightly in her collar, pulling her face inches away from his as he yells. “What the fuck were you thinking? I oughta tell you to grab your stuff right now and get the hell outta here, since you’re so intent on getting yourself kill-“

He notices her now, the state she’s in as she passively accepts his iron grip without protest. Her hair was in a disheveled array, stolen mascara running and her lipstick smudged with a split lip.

“I should’ve taken your fucking gun with me.” Amy sniffles weakly.

“What happened?” he demands, tone harsh and clipped, but his grip goes soft.

Amy slowly pulls back from his grip and adjusts her collar, avoiding his gaze. She was dressed like she was going clubbing, but between the short skirt and lowcut sequined top somehow none of the clothes looked like they belonged on her. At least not from Frank’s function-over-form perspective of what her wardrobe should consist of.

“Why’re you wearing this shit?” He gestured at her attire and the heels in her hand. “You can’t run in those.”

Amy scoffs quietly.

“I’ll ask again, what were you doing?” He lowered his voice to a low and dangerous rasp. 

“I wanted to see my friend, well my ex. He had something I wanted and I had something I thought he wanted. But turns out he wanted something different than what I wanted, like my fucking shoes.” She held up the designer heels pilfered from Madani’s closet.

“What _happened_?” Frank felt a tendril of a sick anger bubble inside of him at the thought of some boy hurting Amy in any way. He’d make them pay.

“He jumped me and things got ugly, but I hit him with a pan and got away. Fell while I was running a few times but he didn’t follow me.” Amy spoke with little emotion. Frank looked down and saw her bloodied knees and a bruise blooming on her thigh.

“You’re never gonna learn, are you,” He shook his head, seething with a barely contained frustration at it all. “What’s it gonna take, you getting killed?” He could feel his voice rising again.

“I- I thought he cared about me. But I was wrong. I was really, _really_ wrong.” Amy shrugs before taking a deep shaking breath. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now. I keep expecting better, because you’re… You’re such an _asshole_ but even you know how to treat me like I’m worth something. I keep expecting better, but no, turns out you’re the only fucking decent person in my life. And I just keep fucking it up over and over and over again.” Her eyes were damp with fresh tears threatening to spill.

Frank softens at the sight. “Look, this was some dumb shit, kid. I know you know that. If I can’t trust-”

In a blur, Amy closes the distance between their lips, pressing hers chastely against his own.

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?!” Frank roars as he reels back from her like she’s a live grenade. “Are you high?” He grabs her by the shoulders to put more distance between them.

“No.” She just sounds coolly disappointed. “I mean, we were supposed to get high but, well, that clearly didn’t happen either.”

Somehow the fact that this is a rational decision makes things so much worse. He can still taste the tang of blood- her blood, as Amy leans into his grip.

“Don’t you _ever- _what the_ fuck,” _He stammers, searching for anything he can say.

“Please, _please_. Just or hold me or something.”

“The hell’s wrong with you?” His voice lowered to an agonized, betrayed whisper. Familial affection he would never feel guilty about but this new and dangerous kind of affection she wanted, shouldn’t- _couldn’t _come from him.

“I wanted to see what kissing someone who actually cares about me feels like. I don’t think I’ve ever had that.” Amy looks up at him, all shiny big blue eyes and he realizes how lost she truly is. How alone. And for a moment he can’t even imagine how that is, that no matter how pigheaded and abrasive he became, there was always someone there who cared- even now.

“C’mon, that’s fucked kid. I’m not that guy for you, Amy.” He scoffs gently, his initial outrage ebbing into something strangely tender.

“I know but- please Frank.” She pleads and fuck it all to hell, he had a soft spot for girls and their big sad eyes begging him, always had, always would.

All he does is release his grip against her, nothing more. But she takes that as all the invitation she needs to crush her swollen, perfect bow shaped lips against his again. She pushes forward a little harder this time, gaining confidence as she goes. Her tongue even comes out to squirm in his mouth by the time he lightly pushes her away again.

Taking but a moment to collect herself, in a flash she’s was on him again, and he let her use him as a vessel for her frustrations. She poured years of aching loneliness and stolen youth into him and he still doesn’t really react.

But he was allowing it. 

And that was a choice he was going to have to live with now. Worse still, he can feel how his cock is getting all fat and ready for her. Helplessly mocking him, as if to say _yeah, you wanna fuck her ripe little body some kind of depraved animal, you wanna give her a fucking baby because that’s all these instincts are for anyways- isn’t that right, you sick fucker?_

Amy started trying to pull him down with her, dangerously close to escalating things whether she intended to or not. “Okay, okay, easy.” Frank murmurs as he pulls back again, in the hopes that she might come to her senses.

He wipes his mouth and sees the stain of her lipstick come off on his wrist, and that does more to him than he’d care to admit. This time when she dives for him again, he finally lets his hands come up to her face and guide her overeager movements against his lips, slowing things down to a more controllable pace.

Surprisingly, it seemed to satisfy her- calm her, even. Like she could get everything she needed just from kissing him, innocent and tenderly, just like this. Until she slots herself against him and his fucking dick somehow manages to nudge right up against her thigh._ Christ_ he should’ve put his jeans on, like this there was no hiding how his body was reacting to hers.

“Mmph- oh my god. Did I,” Amy pulled back from his lips and stared down at where his cock was tenting against the fabric. “Did I do _that_?” She uttered, incredulous.

“It’s not what you think.” _Like hell it wasn’t_. He was no better than every other disgusting old pervert out there, the kind that deserved to be put down.

“It’s not? Because to me it looks like you’ve got a huge fucking bon-”

“Shut up, just shut up.” Frank snaps, clamping a hand roughly over her mouth. She bites him on the meat of his palm before crying out in pain. He wrenches his hand back to see blood streaking down her chin from her cut lip.

“Dumbass kid, look what-”

“_I_ made you do? Yeah, you got that all on your own.” She huffs, swiping at her lip roughly with one hand and gesturing lewdly at his erection with the other.

“No not _that,_ jesus_._ Just,” Frank rolls his eyes and reaches for her. “Come ‘ere. Let’s clean that up.”

They move to the kitchen sink where Frank tends to her lip with a warm rag and disinfectant like nothing untoward had occurred between them. He knows this stuff stings like a bitch, but Amy’s trooper and doesn’t flinch. But, all the while she never breaks eye contact. Her lust blown eyes just stare into his and room buzzes with unspoken tension so thick it could’ve stopped a bullet.

“It’s not like I haven’t done anything before if that’s what you’re worried about. I know what I’m doing,” Amy tries to tell him, but he stops her.

“Shut the fuck up, let me clean this.” Frank chides, but there’s no real bite to it.

When he’s finished wiping the blood away and cleaning it, Amy looks like she may just combust on the spot as her nostrils flared with pent up frustration, nonetheless she remains quiet like he’d told her.

“Lets see about your knee, sit down over there.” Frank orders softly, head inclining towards to couch. 

Amy takes about 2 steps towards the couch before she twists and reaches for his waist, in what Frank can only assume was a reckless attempt to pull down his shorts. Years of muscle memory and instinct spur his movements as he shoves her, harder than he means, straight into the carpet between the couches in defense of his dignity. She hits the floor with a cry of pain and he should leave it at that- get dressed and leave her here. Call Curtis, Karen, Madani, _anyone, _to come and get her away from him since things are obviously out of control. But goddamnit now she’s crying and it’s his fault this time, he’d caused her more pain.

“Stop crying.” And even that comes out as a loud, harsh command. Frank squats down to where she was sitting up and wiping her tears with her hands in an effort to comply. “C’mon, Amy.” He tries to soften his tone as he brings the rag to her knee.

“I just wanna get loved by someone once in my miserable fucking life before I get killed, before both of us get-” She cuts off with a seethe of pain as he dabs at her leg with the rag.

“You’re too young for all that stuff, least from me. That’s not what this is.” He shakes his head with a hint of a rueful smile.

“You care about me like no one else ever has. I don’t know what this is, but it makes me want things more than I think I ever have. _Ow_.” She sniffles miserably.

One of her hands wraps its way around his while he wiped at her knee, disinfecting it gently. He allows it until she tries to drag his hand up her thigh.

“_Stop_.” He commands, pulling his hand back. “This isn’t a smart game to play, kid. You don’t know how this ends for you.”

“Pretty sure it ends with you showing me a good time.” She tries a confident smile, but it only looks nervous.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Frank rumbles, throwing the rag down.

“Just this once- I’ll leave you alone after, I promise. We don’t ever have to talk about it again, it’ll be like it never happened.” She pleads, desperately trying to reach for his hand again, for any contact she can find.

“You know that’s not-” He starts. 

“Look, either you do it, or I’ll find someone who can.” Amy cuts in, swiftly switching tactics and puffing herself up behind a façade of confidence to mask her desperation. “ I’ll do it, I’ll go right back out th-”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He groans, sitting back on his heels in defeat. “They call me unhinged, but you kid- I don’t even know what you are.”

She takes his lack of further argument as open invitation to wiggle out of her shirt, and when that fails to be met with further resistance her bra and skirt follow. He just sits there, looking at her and sinking a little deeper with each new part of her that was exposed. 

Her pert breasts are perfect, pink and full with the blossom of youth. _But of course they are_ he thinks, numbly. Shaky with anticipation, Amy pulls down the lacey scrap of her undergarments to fully expose herself to him. She’d shaved for her date tonight, but he could still see a little thatch of blonde leftover, now glistening with her excitement.

Her excitement for _him_. He’d done this to her- he made her sweet pussy drip like that, and that sends a dangerous heat through him.

She says nothing, but her eyes speak volumes as she takes his hand and wordlessly cups it against herself, and this time he lets her. Feeling how worked up she is finally spurs him into action, finding her clit and pressing the rough pad of a finger against it.

“Oh, _god_.” She squirms under his touch. He only allows himself to touch her in this one spot, but she takes it for all it’s worth, bucking against him, calling to his body with the sweetest siren song ever devised.

“Shit.” Frank groans wretchedly at feeling more slick warmth gush between her pussy lips. He was aching for her. So aroused he felt almost dizzy with it, leaking into his fucking boxers like a goddamn teenager.

He kept moving his hand against her until little shivers ran through her, until she could hardly string a sentence together. “Please. _Please_. I want,” Amy mewls against him, finally breaking the contact by lifting onto her knees, uncaring of her injury.

She hesitates before reaching for him this time, but when he doesn’t react she yanks his briefs down in one graceless tug before she can lose her nerve. He breaths deeply, but doesn’t stop her. At this point there’s no hope, there’s no salvation. Now freed, his cock immediately springs towards her, all thick and hard and eagerly optimistic.

When Amy finally sees him in full, throbbing against the open air, her eyes go more than a little buggy.

“Wow I-” She stammers, flushing delightfully. “I’ve never been with a- uhm. All that.” Amy gestures vaguely at his chiseled, mature, frame, as if only now realizing what he was.

He knew what she meant to say. _A full grown man_. A man who’d seen this much life and had the scars to prove it. She pushes slightly against his shoulders, signaling that she wants him on his back, and he had no idea what she planned to do next. He shouldn’t even be allowing himself to find out.

He sighs quietly as he flops onto his back, figuring he may as well let her explore his body since she’s staring at him like he’s a museum specimen. He almost jumps out of his skin when he feels her bare skin touching his. He realizes her intentions as she grinds her dripping center across his belly, humping at him artlessly before situating herself a little lower. 

“I’m just gonna,” She presses his cock into his belly, splitting herself over him. “_Yeah,_ like that.” Amy starts to grind herself against his cock. Her juices leaving a wet strip along his length as she searched for friction against her clit.

Frank knew it was inevitable, that she was so wet all she needed to do was line herself up just right and the head of his cock would slip inside. But it didn’t make the sensation any less tortuously corrupt when it finally happened.

“_Christ_.” Frank murmurs under his breath as his world narrowed down to just 2 facts; that she was without a doubt the tightest squeeze he’d ever stuffed himself into, and he is so fucked.

When she felt him there, suddenly right where she needed, Amy froze and her eyes widened; her deep blue irises eclipsed almost entirely by pupil. She just holds herself there for a moment, with the head of him squeezed painfully tight inside her, before daring to slide down just a hairsbreadth farther. 

“How we doin’?” He grits at her, sounding more impatient than he means to. But he’s gonna embarrass himself if she keeps up like this. Not that he had a scrap of dignity left, letting Amy ride his fucking dick like this.

“_Oh_,” And damn if her little whimper didn’t go straight to his cock. “I just feel like… Really, _really _full, H_mmm-_ might need a sec.”

A more practiced woman probably would’ve answered ‘oh fuck, Frank’ or taken the cue to start moving but not her, not his Amy; all dirty and damaged and so yet naïve with youth it almost made him sick. She furrowed her dark brows in concentration as she slid down, finally engulfing all of him. He was almost proud, watching his girl go, taking all of him.

“That’s it, _attagirl_.” Frank drawled out before he could help himself. He was supposed to be throwing her off, screaming at her, sending her away.

Now fully seated on him, Amy tests out the feeling of him inside her. She tightens around him, making him grunt.

“You like it when I do that, huh? I kinda like having you at my mercy.” No fucking way, she was absolutely breathless, but somehow still manages to toy with him.

“_C’mon,_ sweetheart.” Frank pants, pinching his eyes shut in an effort to avoid just shooting his load then and there. She takes just a little too long to act and Frank finally can’t stand it anymore, he flips them over and Amy squeals with feverish delight as her back roughly hits the floor.

And then he was fucking her. He was fucking Amy, his little delinquent dependent right into the goddamn floor. There would be no coming back from this, and he was definitely going straight to hell but the way he was pulling unpracticed sweet little moans from her mouth almost made him forget how treacherously ruinous this was.

He’d do anything for her; even ruin her so thoroughly that all other boys her age would only be a disappointment- because she’d asked him to. Amy clings to him, like he’s the only thing keeping her tethered into reality, her hands grappling at the thick muscles of his shoulders as he moves over her. Her legs wrap around him and she keens so loudly he’s sure the neighborhood can hear her.

He finds her lips for a moment but she breaks away- unable to keep the contact. Unable to process anything besides his hips pushing into her over and over again. The obscene sounds of sex were nothing new to him, but the noises she made where hers and hers alone. Those sounds would haunt him for the rest of his life, _but at this point, what didn’t?_

“This what you wanted?” He harshly pants against her ear. Past coherent speech, Amy can only moan in response. “_Huh_?” Frank demands but her only response is crying out and coming hard around his cock. She tightens around him so hard it almost hurts and makes his vision go funny around the edges.

“Jesus_ fuck_, fucking_-”_ And that was it. He comes in long jaw-clenching pulses, as deep inside her as he could go. He knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t stop himself. He’d already fucked every single thing in his life straight to hell, he might as well make this as bad as it could possibly be. Seemed only fitting.

For a moment he collapses his weight on top of her, still seeing stars behind his eyes. He can feel how Amy’s smaller chest is heaving in tandem with his, and becomes aware he’s probably squishing her. Finally he gathers himself and begins to gently pull out, stomach twisting as his semen trickles out, sticky and thick, onto her inner thighs and the carpet

He collapses next to her, watching as she attempts to cover her face with her hands and curl in on herself.

“Amy… kid? Talk to me.” He touches her wrist, prompting her to look at him, her face still sex flushed and lips swollen.

“I- oh god. I did that. You’re gonna hate me. Now’s the part where you realize what we did and-” She shivers, looking perilously close to tears.

“No,no,no hey,” Frank cradles her tangled head to his sweat slicked chest. “Shh. I don’t hate you. You didn’t force me to do that, you got that? I made that choice,” He brushes her hair back before staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. “ And now I gotta live with it, I guess.”

“So you still think it was wrong.” Amy sniffs.

“Look, lets-” He fists a hand into his tousled dark waves, searching for any way to move forward from this. “ You clean yourself up, get dressed and then we’ll talk.” 

“Okay.” She nods and ambled towards the bedroom closet while he reached for his briefs.

After a few long minutes, he goes in to check on her and she hasn’t made it past the bed. A riot of blonde hair fans out from where she’s curled up on the ancient mattress, still naked. Frank figures the night’s events had finally taken their toll.He pauses indecisively before pulling the blanket over her. Amy snuffles slightly in her sleep but doesn’t wake.

In another world, he knew he’d join her under the covers, uncaring how cramped it was, card his fingers through her hair and allow her love to make him feel somewhere close to whole again. But their current reality could not permit that and Frank settles on the couch where she usually slept, the fabric heavy with the soft smell of her. Despite the heaviness suffusing his limbs, he lay awake for hours. Until he could see the first pale beginnings of morning light. He tries to tell himself it was just another choice he’d have to live with, just like every time he pulled that trigger- but somehow so much worse.

He’d never been very good at compartmentalizing things, but for the sake of keeping them both alive he’d try. He’d try to move on from this point. He resolved to try and be a better man tomorrow, be the figure she needed in her life, and somehow learn to live with the choice he’d made tonight- he had to.

He didn’t know how to do anything else.


End file.
